The Painting That Wouldn't Come Back
You told me not to haul all that luggage, and now you wanted it set down in your own study. When I looked at Chairman Park, he spoke with a face that gave nothing away.
"Gotten a taste for selling paintings?"
"Pardon?"
"I said, did you bring another painting to sell your old grandpa."
There he went again.
"No, Grandpa. That one can't be sold."
"......?"
"You can't sell something you were given."
"A gift?"
I nodded.
"And why's that fellow giving you a gift? Angling for a line into Hyeon-gang, isn't he?"
"I can't explain it in any detail, but if you think of it as standing in for a contract... something along those lines..."
"Another secret?"
"Yes."
"Awful lot you're hiding."
He said it that way, and yet a grin cut across his face. Chairman Park's expression wasn't a bad one. More than anything, he seemed to have taken an interest in Jo Sudeok's painting.
"Cold. Let's go in."
He matched my stride and set his feet down slowly.
"Grandpa, if you'd been thinking of buying that painting... how much would you have paid?"
"Why? I name a big number and you'll sell it even now?"
"No. I was only curious."
"Secret."
"Oh, come on. How is that a secret?"
"You get to have secrets, and I don't?"
"Are you taking revenge on your little grandson?"
"Sure am. Revenge."
It was probably the first time. The first time I had traded jokes with Grandpa—no, with Chairman Park. Maybe that was why the walk across the yard toward the house felt unusually short that night.
Jo Sudeok summoned his students. The ones with a head for practical work, the so-called aces. Even among them, he filtered once more. They'll need to be fluent in English, too. Narrowed to that last condition, he had exactly seven—an elite unit, if he was feeling generous. Yes. With these veterans of a comeback at his side, what in all the world was there to fear?
Park Jihoon had pointed him straight at the Dürer last drawing. A mother holding a small child. A drawing, he had said, worked into old paper. But where does he even get information like that? The doubt lasted only a moment. Then again, they say Hyeon-gang's intelligence puts the state spy service to shame. It probably does.
Park Jihoon had been clear that he could start slowly. Jo Sudeok thought otherwise. We've got a rough location, and the profession is pinned down. A few phone calls and a short list will fall out. Might as well call while he was at it.
His network was wide. Shameful to admit, but that was because he had set the brush down and thrown himself into collecting people. Thanks to that, even among the universities in Boston he knew three or four professors. Start with the ones that have some pull, and work down the list.
The calls themselves were simple. He needed help finding a man. Put a kind of wanted notice through the faculty grapevine, and surely they could pull a list of architects living in Boston. Of course, some of them balked. Then it was only a matter of offering the carrot and the stick by turns.
"No, I'm talking about that conference a few years back. Word was, somebody saw you at the hotel with a blonde. So I tore into him. What are you saying about a friend who married a Korean woman! And the bastard swore he'd seen it with his own eyes. So I told him—come on, the wife must have dyed her hair blonde! I'm right, aren't I? Was I wrong?"
"(So... who is it you're looking for?)"
"An architect in Boston. Word is the man's holding on to a painting..."
He made a few calls like that, and exactly two days later word came back.
"(Boston architects who live in a house with a yard, and who have an old painting.)"
"You've narrowed it down already?"
"(There were about fifty.)"
"Well. That's handy."
"(Someone might have been left off.)"
"Come on, you're not a computer. People do the work. Of course something gets missed."
"(Then I'll just hang—)"
"Wait, wait."
"(What now?)"
"It'll take me at least two days to sort out a plane ticket and fly over."
"(And?)"
"While that's happening, check a little more for me."
"(Check what?)"
"You're not a computer, remember? Make sure nobody got left off."
"(Isn't this a bit much?)"
"Hey. One favor between friends, and you make me out to be some villain? Hmm? The conference before last... you slipped out and went to the casino. Lost about ten thousand dollars, didn't you? And that woman who comforted you while you were down in the dumps..."
"(I'll check. Whether anyone's missing. Call in the doctoral students and we'll know in no time.)"
"Good. Doctoral students! Just hearing it puts me at ease."
And with that, every preparation was finished.
Hoo. Tomorrow he could fly to America. Right. First, take this job one careful step at a time. And then... Once he got back to Korea, he would paint until he dropped. The opening exhibition at the Hyeon-gang Art Museum...! Could the second act of a life in art begin any better?
Jo Sudeok's eyes were burning brighter than they ever had.
The next day, at the Hannam-dong house. From the crack of dawn a call came looking for me. It was Professor Jo Sudeok.
"What's the occasion, calling so early?"
"(Preparations are all finished, so I wanted to report.)"
"Sorry?"
"(I worked up a composite, spread a wanted notice far and wide, and the tips came pouring in.)"
A composite? A wanted notice? Tips? Jo Sudeok sounded oddly excited.
"(Now I just have to fly over and confirm the suspect.)"
"What are you, a detective?"
"(I mean I'm going at this thoroughly and systematically.)"
"Even so. It's only been a few days, and already..."
"(I'm the right man for this field. You can feel it already, can't you?)"
"So the job wasn't easy to begin with?"
A joke, slipped in. He seemed to know it; the answer came back slick as oil.
"(That's the reaction you get when a real professional takes over. Huh? Was this actually an easy job? Try it yourself, though, and it's a different story.)"
"I'll let myself be fooled this once."
"(Aigo, much obliged!)"
Heh heh heh.
"Then I ought to send you the expenses."
"(Aigo, another thanks is in order. Boss! I'll spend it as if it were my own money. Carefully.)"
The man really was a cheerful sort.
"(The moment I confirm the transfer, I'll find the earliest ticket and fly. And since I'll need to report as things develop... I'd prefer it if you stayed home.)"
"Of course. I'm a homebody anyway."
"(A housewarming?)"
Not a housewarming. A homebody... Ah. Right. People weren't saying that yet.
"Anyway, I'll be home. Call whenever you like."
"(Yes, yes! Then I'll just—)"
"Oh, Professor."
"(......?)"
"That piece you gave me last time."
"(Ah, yes, yes!)"
"It went into my grandfather's study and it hasn't come out."
"(What do you mean...)"
"He must like it. He won't give it back."
A silence moved through the line. That was when I first learned it—that joy can settle even into stillness.
"(Jihoon—no, Boss! I will give you my complete loyalty.)"
"That's not why I told you."
"(Nobody can stop my loyalty! There is absolutely no stopping it!)"
A man whose sixtieth birthday was the day after tomorrow, saying that to an eleven-year-old kid... Anyway, the baffling call ended there.
Park Yonghak set two large canvases side by side and gave both works all the time they asked for. This is the same man's hand? They were both Jo Sudeok's, certainly. On the left, the piece Jihoon had been given a few days earlier. On the right, a painting Jo Sudeok had shown several years back. Perhaps it was only that the gap in level was so stark.
"Hm."
A low sigh slipped out of him. Everything Jo Sudeok had exhibited until now had been much of a muchness. The finish was there, which was surely how he had made professor. Put it on the world market, though, and there was no distinction worth the name. And then this. The work Jihoon had brought cleared that old level by a ridiculous margin, as if the painter had been struck all at once by enlightenment.
What had changed Jo Sudeok? Indulge a selfish little fantasy, and perhaps something had happened while Jihoon was proposing the business. One step further—perhaps the grandson had faintly taken the measure of Jo Sudeok's true face. Follow that thought far enough, and—
He snorted. The empty laugh came out of him before he knew it. An eleven-year-old. What was he even saying? Keep this up and I'll be insisting there's a fifty-year-old snake curled inside the boy.
As if to shake the stray thought off, Park Yonghak rose. He drew the curtain and turned his eyes to the view outside. The sun had climbed high. The trees stood steeped, gratefully, in the light of living things. Even that glad sight could not turn his interest aside. Why is it I expect more of the grandson than of my own son. Honestly.
That was when it happened. The bell rang, sharp, and Park Yonghak turned.
"Who's this?"
"(Chairman, this is Chief Secretary Kim Wookhwan. I'm calling because I have something to report.)"
"A report?"
"(Yes. Would it be all right if I came to see you now?)"
"Waste of time, coming all the way over. Report it on the line."
"(Yes, Chairman.)"
Kim Wookhwan paused to choose his words.
"(A substantial share of the money in the young master's account has been transferred to Professor Jo Sudeok. Professor Jo has booked a flight to Boston and is on his way to the airport as we speak.)"
"Boston?"
"(From what I could learn, he seems to be looking for a painting. He's already narrowed it to a pool of candidates through his faculty connections... His skill looks considerable.)"
"And he used that skill to sweet-talk our boy?"
"(Sir?)"
"There's a good painting, so invest a little; just put up the money and I'll go fetch it myself. Did the rascal sweet-talk our boy with that fine skill of his? That's what I'm asking."
"(Well...)"
"Why can't you say it?"
"(F-from what I looked into, it seems the young master made the business proposal first.)"
"......?"
"(Professor Jo Sudeok is the timid sort who hates a gamble. He'll take the scraps that fall his way, but he's a man who finds it too much to step forward and cut the cake himself.)"
"Small guts?"
"(Yes. He is not a man who would dare make use of Hyeon-gang.)"
"So it wasn't him. Our boy sweet-talked him first. That what you're saying?"
"(Rather than sweet-talked... a proposal, or something closer to persuasion...)"
"You sure?"
"(The circumstances look certain.)"
"Then the better skill is on our boy's side."
"(Chairman, shall we look into what painting the young master is after, and what it's worth?)"
"Enough. Leave it."
For once, a film he had actually been looking forward to was about to open. Know how the rest of it goes, and the fizz goes right out of it.
"Leave the child alone and put your mind on company work."
"(Yes, Chairman.)"
When Park Yonghak set the receiver down, a strange smile hung at the corner of his mouth.